Rewind to a few months ago, when the first rains of early winter began to fall, Isolde had realized Atur's intention to forge a set of armor for her long ago—in fact, she was suspicious from the very first day.
Actually, it wasn't exactly hard to spot. The Cluel girl simply smelled the scent of metal and coal dust on Atur and immediately realized where he had been. Since that roommate of hers never wore armor and he already has two swords, she began to feel something was amiss.
"Where did you just come from?" So Isolde asked this question casually.
"Huh? Ah, no! I didn't go anywhere. Just wandering around, you know."
And just like that, Isolde knows Atur is doing something fishy.
Why the hell did Atur need to hide the fact that he went to the forge? Unless there was a reason he wanted to hide it from her. And Atur would only want to hide things for two reasons: one, because he knew full well Isolde would scold him. Or, Atur was planning to do something for her, as a surprise.
Forging something for Isolde could only be a sword or a set of armor. Since the battle with Atofe, both of those items belonging to the Water King had been destroyed. At that time, she had hoped she would receive a new sword. Because what kind of swordsman doesn't want a new weapon?
So Isolde anticipated that she would receive a new sword, maybe even a magic sword, hopefully.
Until one day, when she was bathing, Calina appeared and pretended to fall to grope the Cluel girl's chest. By then, Isolde was certain that Atur was planning to make her a set of armor.
Well… she was a bit disappointed back then.
Because she had hoped for a sword, obviously. But why wouldn't a Water God Style swordswoman, who always wears full body armor when fighting seriously like Isolde, like a set of armor?
Because for a swordsman who values perfection like Isolde, she was always confident in her swordsmanship. Even to the point of being called extremely excessive.
For a very long time, when fighting against swordsmen of the same age or even double her age, Isolde never let them leave even the smallest scratch. Because to her, a Water God Style swordsman getting hit is a sign of weakness. So she hadn't valued armor since she started holding a sword.
At least with a good sword in hand, I can use it to win. She had always thought so.
And even for techniques that required using hands to assist the sword when applying 'flow', Isolde spent weeks, months mastering it to the point where her body wouldn't be injured. To her, the armor remaining intact was the clearest proof of her skill.
Therefore, the sword was always more valuable than the armor.
That belief had been reinforced long ago, since she first started becoming a disciple of the Water God.
It was on the tenth birthday of the youngest daughter of the Cluel family, when she met her grandmother for the first time and was accepted as a disciple by her. That evening, the mighty Water God placed two things in front of the young pupil.
On the right was a sword that seemed to glow under the soft candlelight of the Cluel family dining room. The blade was long, polished silver; it was a sword made of Mithril, an extremely durable and light precious alloy. Although Isolde had no experience with real swords, with her instincts, she easily recognized it was clearly an extremely valuable weapon.
And on the left was an upper body armor piece engraved with the Cluel family crest on the left chest. Although this armor didn't glow like the sword, based on the texture, it was certainly made by an extremely talented artisan. If someone wore this armor and appeared on the battlefield, that person must be someone of status.
After withdrawing her hands from the two items, the Water God looked at Isolde opposite her, who was analyzing her two items. With the satisfaction of someone who always loves young talents, Reida couldn't suppress a smile appearing on her lips before asking her question.
"Isolde, what do you think is more important to a swordsman, the sword or the armor?"
Contrary to the grandmother's speculation, the granddaughter who had just turned ten showed no hesitation and answered immediately.
"It is the sword."
"Oh? Why?" Reida raised her eyebrows in surprise.
Because that was what you wanted to hear. You had looked at the sword before withdrawing your hand. Isolde thought so at the time, but she also knew she couldn't answer like that.
She thought of another answer. An answer impressive enough to Reida, so she would value her and accept her as a disciple as intended. To Isolde, this was like a test determining her entire future.
"Because a swordsman needs a sword to be a swordsman," she said, with a decisive tone unlike a normal kid at her age. "If only with a set of armor, that would just be an armored person. Completely useless before a sword."
Reida, who always had a scowling face, now couldn't hide her amusement. She chuckled, then placed her hand on the sword, gently pushing it towards Isolde.
"Just as you said, a swordsman needs their sword. Then this will be the birthday gift I give you. Besides practice sessions with me using wooden swords, use it to self-train to understand the weight of a real steel."
"I understood." Isolde bowed respectfully. Her two hands reached out to take the sword. "Thank you, Master."
So I passed. Isolde secretly rejoiced in her heart while gripping her gift tightly. Now she would be a disciple of the Water God.
"Your answer indeed makes me very satisfied. With your current mindset and swordsmanship, it is enough to achieve the title of Water Saint," Reida added. Her usual scowling face gradually returned, showing crow's feet gradually appearing at the corners of the eyes of the woman approaching sixty. "However, to go further, you must change your thinking a bit. A swordsman who doesn't need a sword but only has armor is not useless. Conversely, they have something that a swordsman without armor doesn't have. Do you know what that is?"
Something a sword without armor doesn't have? Isolde kept her bowing posture, but she was glancing slightly towards Reida, trying to find the hidden meaning in those words. But she didn't need to wait long; her own grandmother explained.
"The one without the sword has trust."
"Trust?"
"That's right, they believe the armor will protect them."
"That sounds stupid," Isolde blurted out. Immediately after, the little girl realized she misspoke and bowed her head down again. "I apologize."
However, Reida didn't seem displeased by that. On the contrary, she seemed amused to realize her genius grandchild still retained the childishness she should have.
"It's okay. Calling it stupid isn't wrong either." Reida placed her finger on the reddish-brown armor, tapping her index finger on it lightly, creating rhythmic clacking sounds. "As you see, our Water God Style is a sword school leaning towards technique and defense. Meaning most initiative belongs to the opponent."
A breeze blew gently through the window frame; the rustling of leaves outside seemed to try to compete for a place in Isolde's ears, but they couldn't find any way in. The Water Saint stared at Reida, waiting for the words her master was about to say.
"For someone swinging a sword to attack, if they make a mistake, there is a possibility the attack is blocked and nullified, or they miss. Or, they can be countered," Reida said in the steadiest and clearest voice. "But do you know what happens if a Water God Style swordsman makes a mistake?"
"They are as good as dead," Isolde answered immediately.
"Correct, definitely death."
Reida's finger stopped. The wind outside also ended as if they were afraid of the Water God's might.
"However, with a set of armor, every mistake has a chance to be corrected, right?"
"Wouldn't it be better if we never made mistakes?" Isolde still posed another question. "You don't ever wear armor either, right?"
"No one never makes mistakes," Reida said slowly. "And yes, I don't wear armor. But it's not because I am confident in my swordsmanship."
"Then why?" Isolde leaned forward slightly, her hands clenched tight.
The Water God's hands clasped together, her body relaxing. Her eyes held a bit of sadness as she thought about what she was about to say.
"Because I don't have faith that there is armor good enough for me to withstand those capable of making me make a mistake." Then her gaze shifted to Isolde. It carried a certain ray of hope. "But I hope that one day you will find your set of armor. A good set that you can put your faith in."
…
Isolde didn't understand those words. Or rather, she never wanted to understand.
Then after meeting Atofe, the old armor she had bought temporarily on the road with Roxy was also shattered. That was the first time she realized how weak she still was. Looking at that pile of shattered scrap iron, the Water King ignited a new fire of effort to continue becoming stronger.
She never thought about looking for better armor, not once over the past few months.
So Isolde didn't look forward much to the gift Atur was preparing. Instead, she focused more on her training. She thought she would just ignore it temporarily to focus her mind on something more important. Which is getting stronger, strong enough to fight without worrying about armor like her master.
However, Atur was always Atur. He had always claimed to be like an annoying fly, and Isolde had to admit it was true. Time and again, he kept trying to find Isolde's body measurements in ways that couldn't be cruder. There were times the blue-haired girl intended to give her clothes to the boy just to get it over with, but she had to change her mind.
Honestly speaking, Isolde wished Atur would just scrap the idea of forging armor for her. Because she didn't need it, nor did she want to get involved in this nonsense.
Then one night, somewhere near four in the morning, when even the earliest birds were still fast asleep, Atur returned to their bedroom. Isolde, of course, realized it immediately. She woke up and immediately noticed her friend's shady actions.
So he finally knew to go find my clothes to get the measurements. He finally got the wit huh?
Part of Isolde felt glad about that. Because perhaps from now on, Atur wouldn't bother her. And a few days later, maybe a few weeks, Atur would give her a good set of armor, end of story, no problem.
Yet part of her felt a bit annoyed thinking about the scene of Atur looking into her wardrobe.
This wasn't the first time it happened; rather, it had happened a few times. Isolde herself occasionally mistook Atur's wardrobe for hers. But a mistake is different from an intentional act. Very different, in fact.
Normally, she wouldn't find it strange for boys at this age to have stupid and perverted expressions. The Water King had seen plenty; men, no matter how good, are all perverts just the same.
But Atur was different.
For some reason, Isolde always expected something different from her only male friend at her age, regarding everything. She always expected Atur to be more hardworking than others; he had to try harder than usual, had to shine brighter, run faster, and even cook better.
She always expected the best from him unconsciously without even realizing it.
So she felt truly disappointed that Atur was ultimately not much different from normal men.
Come on, you could totally just ask me straight, you idiot. Don't do that.
Isolde kept breathing steadily, pretending to be asleep. She knew she shouldn't wake up right now. The awkwardness of the current situation would surely make their relationship weird forever.
Then what happened?
SLAM!*
Atur banged his head on the wardrobe. That's right, he banged his head on the wardrobe, a blow so hard that Isolde almost had a heart attack.
WHY!? Isolde already knew Atur is strange, but this level of strangeness is just out of her worldview.
Then the teenager stood there, looking towards her. Isolde couldn't see that expression clearly because her eyes were still closed while feigning sleep. But she felt something very strange.
It was a change, a determination to change, in a situation that couldn't be more awkward. How? Why? What the heck is happening? Isolde didn't know, couldn't understand this weird teenager.
Then he leaves, with determination, without even looking back for once. The room now only has a girl and a cat both pretending to be asleep the whole time.
Isolde sits up and looks at the door where Atur just used to go out. Her face is puzzled, her mind is still full of questions. But somehow, deep down, she feels something strange.
And that makes her lip smile without her even knowing about it.
…
The next few days passed. Every day Isolde looks at Atur trained seriously. His eyes were full of spirit and inexplicable maturity. He then continued to go to the forge, still swinging the hammer on the anvil, adjusting every little bit for the armor. Then spending hours just to fine-tune the magic circles meticulously.
It was exactly like the first time she met Atur. A strange determination for a reason she would never understand. The Water King once again, for some reason, found this truly beautiful to witness.
Then that day finally came. Atur brought her the armor he had been making for months.
Surprisingly, it was a beautiful set of armor, surprisingly; Isolde had to admit that when seeing it hanging on the rack in the bedroom. It was platinum-colored with a faint grey shimmer. It doesn't have any fancy emblem or textures like those nobles would wear into the battlefield. It's just a set of armor, very practical and almost can be called pragmatic. But somehow under the sun of winter, it looks like a star in the sky, twinkling and shiny. It was even a magic-enhanced armor. If it was in this aspect, she was sure it must be of a quality that nowhere else could compare.
However, that wasn't what she felt surprised about.
Because when Atur helped her put it on, she didn't feel the usual perverted gaze from him anymore. Instead, it was true high concentration. He was like a different person. This is one of the rare moments when she can't even read his mind, and that annoys her, a damn lot.
After finishing putting it on the armor, Atur spoke.
"This is your birthday gift."
"My birthday?" Isolde asked back. "You mean my 15th birthday?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
"Then you are nearly three years late."
"Sorry for making you wait then." He shrugged. "You can give me my 15th birthday gift three years late too if you want."
"I will not do that. I'm better than you."
"Oh come on…"
"Sorry, just a force of habit."
So the Water King chuckled. At the same time, the cold wind of mid-winter blew through the door crack. Normally, she always wore at least a few layers of clothes. Isolde never said it, but she always felt cold in this kind of weather. After all, she grew up in the Royal Capital with a quite mild climate. And since she was only 12, she moved south to Shirone and got used to the warmth there. So winter in this Gaslow is truly torture.
At this moment, she was wearing exactly two normal layers of fabric and a set of armor. Her body shuddered as a reflex, preparing for a chill that never came.
Instead, it was a warmth, mixed with a bit of coolness. Not the cold winter she had to face daily anymore; it was as if her entire body was in a warm spring. Only her head was freezing but it didn't concern her that much.
What is happening? This feeling makes her feel relaxed and a bit sleepy as well.
"Because I gave the armor magic circles capable of regulating body temperature," Atur explained; lately, he seemed to have started learning how to converse with Isolde's thoughts.
"Oh I see. Just like the armor of the people here. They never let me wear one because it will make me become Atofe's guard forever, they said."
"That's right." Atur nodded decisively. "I know you don't like the cold so that's the main reason I made this armor."
"Eh?" Isolde raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you do that with a cloak or something?"
"Because you also needed a new set of armor, right?"
But I...
The young girl intended to object. But her lips closed right after opening. She knew she couldn't say she didn't need this. Not only because it would hurt Atur but also because... she felt perhaps she really needed it.
For some reason, at this moment she recalled the words her master said many years ago about finding armor. Isolde at that time didn't understand the meaning in the Water God's words. To her, armor was always just a backup plan, an unreliable protection that makes one negligent because of over-reliance. Isolde doesn't need it because she only believes in her ability, her wisdom and her skill. Being relied on something you can't control is something the Water King never accepts.
But now, wearing beautiful armor that fit a big tall man like Peridot better than a slender girl like herself, Isolde felt strangely happy.
Her heart beat faster than usual, a little.
Her face was also redder than usual, just a little bit.
And she also found herself very warm, very much so.
Isolde had to admit that she needed this armor, but at the same time, she didn't. It's weird right? She is still very confident of her skill. She still wants to be stronger. But she doesn't hate the idea of wearing this one.
Just as she gradually understood the meaning of 'armor' and 'faith' that her master told her long ago.
She's thinking of the time she is fighting Atofe for the first time. She's about to lose, all hope is lost. But when she prayed, out of nowhere, 'he' appeared, said she was his fiancee. A month later, when she's having a rematch with the Immortal Demon King, she was full of confidence. Then, before the power of an immortal and the ultimate technique, she was about to lose again. But, again, 'he' appeared and punched Atofe into submission.
She hates to admit it but maybe the feeling of having someone to depend on isn't that bad at all. Just like this set of armor, it's so warm and reliable. Maybe deep down in the heart of an arrogant genius swordswoman, she's still a girl who wants to lean on someone she can trust.
Someone she has high expectations for but still accept them for how flawed they can be.
Someone like him.
"Thank you, Atur."
So she said those words. Instead of the usual sarcasm or mockery whenever she saw her friend do something imperfect, she said thank you, with all her heart. Because she actually meant it.
Thank you for showing me that I can trust you.
That thank you also carried a consignment, a trust, something that was also gradually changing inside Isolde.
"Um. Thank you too, Isolde."
On the other side, another thank you was spoken. Accompanied by gratitude for accepting him.
All of them blended together, creating the form of an armor that was still imperfect.
But day after days, the boy will try his best to make it will fit the girl perfectly.